Bratty Bella
by The Anonymous Name
Summary: Isabella, also known as Bella, is a spoilt brat. When she is forcibly shipped off by her father to a certain prestigious boarding school, and after being completely humiliated by the rejection of the BigShot - Edward Cullen - there, she begins to learn that there are more important things than popularity, looks etc.
1. Prologue: Bella likes Tvs

**Prologue**

My plasma TV was one of the things that I would save if there were a fire. That, and my twelve shades of lipstick, my five laptops, my walk-in wardrobe, my make-up kit, my five Gucci handbags (I heart Gucci), my jewellery - especially the pink ones, and oh yes, my life. I told my housekeeper that, and she replied that if that were the case, if there were an actual fire, she wouldn't expect me to make it out alive.

Like, whatever. You know the saying 'hell hath no fury like a woman scorned'? It's one of my favourites. It shows all those chavunistically-sexist males that we woman are worth reckoning with. Never underestimate a woman. When we're truly passionate about something, we'll find a way to wrap our gorgeous nail-polished, manicured fingers round it. And I'm passionate about my twelves shades of- You get the idea. I will totally make it out of the fire. Alive. And with my vunderful plasma TV.

But now, eyeing the screwed up TV resolution with a screwed up nose, maybe I wouldn't bring that damn thing along. On second thought, it was fucking heavy, and even if I managed to drag it out of my sizzingly mansion, I couldn't take the power plug, switch, and all that electricity shit with me. Useless. Completely, utterly useless. And even as I rant mindlessly in my head, the TV's going haywire, and completely destroying a perfectly scary horror movie, _Insidious_.

All the more the reason to abandon it in a burning building.

"I totally can't see the bloody ghost now!" I shrieked with dismay. Tossing the remote control to the ground - whatever, the TV was already as spoilt as it could get, I glared daggers at my friend Kayla.

"What?" She said, unaffected. "There's a reason why it's a ghost. You _can't _see it."

"What I _can _see is that Patrick Wilson has three fucking heads now!"

"Three heads of gorgeousness. Awesome!" Kayla exclaimed delightedly.

I rolled my eyes. One, Patrick Wilson didn't make 'Gorgeous' in my book. I had high standards. Two, Kayla totally wasn't grasping the gravity of the situation. It didn't care whether Patrick had five heads of gorgeousness, or even ten on the screen, but what I did care, was that my plasma TV - which had been the oldest member of this household of very new things, since I liked to have my personal stuff new - was dying on me.

Times like this made me wonder why I hung out with someone who had a literal bird brain, like Kayla. Oh yes, I remember now. Because she's popular, I'm popular, and I'm making use of her to gain more popularity. Hanging out with stupid people was just a minor drawback. I could deal.

Still steaming at my loss, I took to my feet and flew down the corridor in a mad rage. When I reached the twenty feet tall staircase, I yelled down, "Nana!"

"What?" A tired, old voice asked from below.

"Carry my plasma TV to the salvation army or whatever. It's spoilt! I need a new one."

"If it's spoilt, Bella, you can't give it to other people." Nana, my housekeeper explained reasonably. "How would you like if I bought you a new, spoilt TV?"

I released a hurrump of displeasure. "I'll be mad, then totally fire you," I said bluntly, but we both knew it was an empty threat. Nana had been working with the Swans since forever. She had been the only babysitter that hadn't taken to the opposite direction after three weeks of restraining me from doing insane things, like spraying toothpaste in my The Man's expensive Tuxs (but The Man-bitch deserved that), and so, The Man didn't really have much of an option but to keep her.

Nana sighed. "Ah, Bella, when will you ever grow up?" I knew it wasn't meant for my ears, but that didn't stop me from scowling.

"I am like, totally grown up!" I exclaimed angrily. How could she accuse me of- The Blasphemy! "I'm even old enough to have a boyfriend! Chase Helton's my boyfriend! And every guy in school wants to be-"

"Ah, ah, ah." Nana stopped me. "I wasn't referring to that. But now," she quickly said when my mouth began to form an 'O' indignantly. "It's late, and you and that little friend of yours had better get ready for bed."

I didn't like her ordering me around like she was me, and I was her. I totally didn't want to be her. So old, so fat, so ugly! Yuks, the horror!

"I'm grown up enough to decide my own bed time!"

Nana sighed again. "Bella," She said quietly. And the change in her voice shocked me so much that I actually listened. "Come here," she murmured, almost sorrowfully. "I have something to tell you."

Perplexed, I skipped down the steps. "What?" I demanded nastily. "This better be long and important, because I walked down twenty fucking steps to hear this."

"I don't know if it's important. It is for you to decide."

"Oooh, _The Mystery_." I yawned in her face, looking nonchalant. "Whud. Spill the beans."

Nana took my hands, and that _one _motherly figure that had left footsteps in my life smiled sadly at me. Something in my stomach knotted. I looked down at our entwined hands, and then back up to her, my throat suddenly parched (even though I had downed eight glasses of coke today). "What?" My voice was a whisper. "What is it?" Did someone die, or something?

She stared at me tenderly for a long moment, before whispering - in the same volume as I -, "I'm leaving."

Something snapped within me, and for the first time in a long while, the resident Ice Queen of Anderson College shed a single tear. The last time I had, had been during my Mother's funeral.

"It's okay though," Nana said lightheartedly. Or tried to. "I'll make sure to install the TV before I go."

The new plasma could totally replace Nana. I wouldn't be thinking one bit about her once I managed to finish watching that amazing show, Insidious, on a new TV with proper resolution, I convinced myself.

Or tried to.

* * *

"I'm totally NOT going!" I screamed into the the speakers of my mobile phone. The Man was deaf. I had already told - or screamed - a hundred times for the past five minutes my answer to going overseas, to a fucking boarding school. The answer was N. fucking. O, NO, but he didn't seem to be grasping that monosyllabic word at all.

"Isabella, you do not have a choice." The Man replied casually, like he totally wasn't causing my entire world to crumble. "The housekeeper is gone, and no one else wants to take care of you - that is your own undoing, may I remind you - so it is pertinent that you go."

Pertinent. Ha. Ha. Like bombastic words would make me more inclined to go.

"Why don't you come back?" I hissed viciously. "Why don't you come back for once, and actually live in the bloody place that you bought for the purpose of _living_!"

"Bella, my business sends me all over the world. That is not an option."

"That hasn't been an option since Mom died, right?" I cried venomously. Not an option? What shit. An excuse more like. "If Mother were here, you would totally-"

"_Isabella_." The Man's voice was firm and sharp. Very, very sharp, like a blade.

"-and I can take care of myself," I finished, breathing heavily.

"No. I will not allow that. Please stop with your ridiculous ideas."

"When I was four you didn't seem to think them ridiculous!" I screamed again. I flipped the middle finger to my bolster, pretending it was The Man, and continued my rant, "But now, everything I fucking do, seems to be ridiculous in your evil, beady-"

The line went dead. The rhythmic beeps whispered in my ear of my epic defeat.

"-eyes," I finished with a sigh. "...And don't get eaten by a Kangeroo. The poor Kangeroo might choke on your old, grumpy bones." Ha. Or rather, do get eaten by a Kangeroo. A Kangeroo sacrificing itself for that cause was something I was willing to spare in riding the world of evil. I giggled a bit at the thought, imagining me describing to the reporters how 'A Kangeroo ate my internationally-famous Dad' during his 'business' trip to Australia.

Or more accurately, his 'hiding from family' trip to Australia.

The gleefully moment was fleeting though. My mobile phone rang again. My eyes drooping with dread, I snatched my Iphone up. It was Nana. Oh, joy. After betraying me after all those ten years in which I'd actually come to think of her as a good person, she calls? I wondered what that witch wanted now.

I tapped the blinking green answer button.

"What?" I asked coldly. "What would you want now, now that you've been fired? Could it be your pay? If I recalled correctly, we paid you already, and _well _too."

There was a heartbreaking silence at the other end of the line.

"Bella," Nana whispered sadly. Oh, the drama. I'm in tears. Huh. _Right._

"It's _Miss Swan _to people I totally abhor," I snapped back. Beneath me, a little pool of clear liquid had accumulated on my sheets. Probably pee. Or drool. Or. Or. Or-

"Well then, Miss Swan," Nana said. Her voice was breaking. I almost felt guilty for causing this. Almost. "I'm returning to France." I didn't make a sound at that. "My Mother is very old, and she needs someone to take care of her." The last part, though unsaid, was obvious. _Will you understand, Bella love?_

"So what's stopping you?" I asked sarcastically. No, I totally didn't understand. So what if her Mother was sick? Her top priority was me! ME! Her Mother could go screw herself. Besides, didn't she have any other kids? Why did only Nana have to take care of her? Wouldn't it be much easier to hire a helper or something, or just ship her off to the old folks home (like how The Man was shipping me off to a boarding school)?

"Bella, I'm going to miss you." I'm not going to miss _you_, though. "So I bought an extra plane ticket. For you to visit me, come the end of this year-"

I hung up. I didn't know why I did that, but I was as rash as The Man. He hung up on me, so I hung up on Nana. Like Father, like daughter.

I winced at the internal recognition of him as my Father. As far as I was concerned, he was nowhere close to a parental figure to me. Last I checked, love had to be in the equation. And between me and The Man, there sure as hell wasn't love. Maybe hate, and disgust, and anger, and love didn't fit with all those vile words. The only person that nearly fit the word, 'a parental figure', w-was, w-was-

My lower lip trembled, and something wet touched my thighs. I glanced downwards. It was a single drop of tear. My tear.

I was crying. Great Gods, and hard too. To form an ocean of tears - literally one - on my bed, I must have been crying throughout the entire phone conversation with Nana unknowingly. Why? Not because I missed her of course, but because there wouldn't be anyone at my disposal to file my nails-

Stop, Bells. Who are you fucking kidding?

Myself.

Precisely. I would miss Nana. I already was. And it hurt. Hurt like I was having a hemorrhage, not in my brain, but right at the centre of my stone-cold heart.


	2. Chapter 1: Bella hates school :(

**Chapter 1**

"So," I wondered, fanning myself with my registration parchment. "Where's the bell boy?"

"Word of wisdom: This is a boarding school, not a hotel."

I stuck my hips out defiantly. "So I suppose my luggage's just gonna walk itself up to my dormitory, right?"

The girl rolled her eyes - Hey! That was my fucking job! -, before scowling. "Ever heard of the concept of _carrying _something? Besides your own anorexic body weight?" When she put it that way, that made me sound like some spoilt wench, which I sure as hell_wasn't_. I just had high standards, and expected a great deal of things, but that totally supported a different characteristic, and not the 'spoilt' trait.

"Listen," I beckoned the girl nearer in a whisper. An idea had struck me, and as usual, my ideas rocked socks. Her eyebrows knitted into the frown, but still, the brunette made her way to me cautiously - like she expected me to pounce on her any time. "I've a hundred bucks on me now," I told her. "If you play bell boy for me, and carry my luggage to my dorm, it's all yours."

She looked outraged. "What?" She exclaimed. "I'm not some beggar who needs your filthy money!"

Huh. Of all people, I just had to approach a law-abiding goody two shoes that didn't take bribes... Just my rotten luck. Yawning with indifference, I felt it essential to say, "One hundred is _nothing_ to me. In fact, you'll be doing me a favour of emptying my totally _heavy_ wallet-"

"Probably filled with coins," She snorted.

"Filled with _notes_!" I informed her with a snarl. "Filled with thousand-dollar notes!"

The girl had the cheek to laugh at this. "You think you're the only one loaded here?" When I glared back at her, mustering my most frightening bitch-look ever, her laughter only intensified. My fingers itched to strangle her. "Think again, new girl. If you came here to bribe people, you're at the wrong place. Maybe you should try bribing those thugs down the street. They'll take the bait."

I didn't know 'those thugs down the street', but from the way she described them, they must be no-good-peeps. And I totally didn't interact with low-classed people.

"I have a thousand dollar note with me-"

"You're trying to bribe me with a thousand dollars, when I have hundreds of thousand-dollar notes in my wallet? That's pretty stupid, you know."

My mouth snapped shut with horror. "Liar." My comeback function was momentarily paralysed.

"I don't need _you_ to believe me. But a word of advice: There's no use flaunting your riches here, prissy princess. Most of us have toilets the size of your house. So don't even try."

Toilets the size of my mansion? PAH. Unless they had a toilet the size of a football field, then sure. I wanted to retort that, but before I could even squeak a word, the stupid girl had flipped me off, and was heading off to God knew where.

Damn that girl to hell.

* * *

"Isabella Marie Swan." The Principal read my name out. I made a face at my highly refined name - that obviously The Man had a say in choosing. Principal Cullen caught me red-handed in that act, and told me in her unusually deep, rich voice (reminded me of liquid chocolate on the ears). "It is a beautiful name, child."

"You wouldn't think so if you did have such a name." I sulked. "Marie. Ha! Ma-rie had a little lamb? Stupid name."

Principal Cullen smiled at my feistiness in disapproval. "Oh Isabella, your Father has told me much about you."

"That means you don't know me at all."

The Principal crossed her legs, before leaning forward. I retracted backwards. She was creepy. "Then, my child, would you care to enlighten me?"

"On what?" I snapped. "Since my Father has told you dirt about me, I'll tell you some dirt about him too. He only wears his underwear to sleep-"

"Isabella dear, I meant about yourself."

"Nothing interesting," I grumped.

She ignored me. It was as if I hadn't spoken. "How about your favourite colour?"

"Don't have one."

"Your least favourite colour?"

I eyed Principal Cullen's blouse. It was dark purple, with a fancy shade of pink crawling up its sides. "Dark purple," I immediately blurted. "And pink. They're totally ugly with a capital U."

She didn't seem to take the hint that I didn't like her, and wasn't interested in conversing with her. Instead, she sat back, quite apparently appeased by this. "Do you have a favourite subject?" The Principal continued.

"I didn't do anything wrong. Yet." I sniffed in indignance. "Why're you interrogating me? Is this even legitimate?"

"My dear, this is no interrogating. I merely want to know more about you."

"My father wasn't even interested," I murmured bitterly. "Why should you be? I think your dresscode sucks, and that you're creepy. Honestly," I said insensitively. "I don't know why you're pretending to be so kind."

"I am not your Father." I finally looked at her - I mean, really look_look_ - for the first time. She had thin, pale lips, complete with an elegant aquiline nose, and a pair of intelligent sky-blue eyes - in which I secretly coveted. Principal Cullen was gorgeous. She didn't belong behind a desk stacked sky high with books and admin papers, she belonged on the stage, or in a museum - somewhere that she could flaunt her exquisite beauty. Maybe she was a popstar in her younger days. It was possible, but... I'd never heard of a popstar with a sirname: Cullen. The Ancient woman smiled, as though knowing that I was checking her out. "Well, Bella," She said. "To sum it up, I care."

"You care about your school." I corrected wittily. "I'm unfortunately a part of your school now. Of course you care."

"Maybe."

"Whatever. What's your name anyway?"

Principal Cullen smiled again. It made my heart sing against my will. "Esme, my child. Esme Cullen." I nodded. Cool name. I could imagine her as Esme Cullen, the twenty one year old internationally recognized star singer...

"Esme," I addressed her bluntly. She smiled in reply. These smiles were getting old. "The people in your school are totally rude." When she cocked her head to the side, I added, "There was this mud haired bitch..."

* * *

When I had finally stumbled out of the Principal's office, two hours had chucked by unknowingly. Geez, that Esme really could talk. The experience hadn't been as unpleasant as I'd expected, I recounted reluctantly. Not that I had had a hell of my time there, but you know...

Being deep in thought, I crashed right smack into someone. The stupid bastard. Didn't he/she look where she walked?

"Oh." I grumbled, realizing who the culprit was, and unfortunately recognizing her as well. "You again."

"I'm not happy about it either," She supplied, aggravated.

"That makes the two of us." I countered. It was the same stupid girl that'd mocked me silly earlier. One way or another, she was going to pay big time, sooner or later. I just needed to decide on the perfect way to punish her.

She chortled bitterly. "Really? Then fate's a bitch. Because out of all people, Esme just asked me to show you around." At that, my jaw dropped like a sack of potatoes. I was too mad to speak. Esme whatttt-? Just after I complained to her about a certain mud-haired hooligan, she had to go ask that very same mud-haired hooligan to show me around?

Esme was totally the devil in reincarnation. There was no doubt about that.

"Couldn't you like, make up an excuse?" I scorned. "That totally benefits us both."

"Can't you subsitute another word for 'totally'? It hurts my ears."

"No. I'm totally 'totallying' at your totally ugly face."

That default scowl etched on her features remained there for three seconds, before she let out a short, surprised laugh. "If the word 'totally' didn't exist, that'll be a big blow to your vocabulary right? - seeing that it's so limited."

"Shut up," I mumbled. She was right. Sort of.

"Woah, _nice _comeback. Did you leave your brain at the Principal's office or something?"

Deciding that having a conversation with this insolent fool was detrimental to my health, I ignored her snobby jabs and concentrated my time and energy on something more constructive, like building up a better 'comeback bank'. I was too engrossed in my own fabulous thoughts and musings that I hadn't even noticed how long we'd walked until the mud-haired bitch nudged me forward (HARD) with the sharp nail-tips of her index finger.

"What the f-"

"It's your dormitory."

I groaned. It was probably another practical joke of hers. "That _can't_ be my dormitory. That looks like the old, haunted cellar my grandfather used to put his champaign bottles in."

"Nice to know." She said sharply. "So are you going in, or would you rather sleep on the corridors?"

I nearly said 'corridors', but looking at the floor beneath me, that hard piece of shit didn't look so comfortable either. Half scowling, half sighing, I snapped, "So I can get trampled on and squashed? I'll pass, thank you."

I thought I heard her mutter something akin to 'not like you don't already look squashed', but I opted to ignore it. That bitch would pay dearly later. When I was finally recognized as popular - perhaps after a day or two, I'd remember to exact out my necessary revenge on her.

* * *

"This place," I declared to the boy beside me. "Is like an effing orphanage."

"With hot guys."

"Hot guys?" I echoed, sweeping my gaze right past him intentionally. "Where?"

He chuckled. This little mister was rather cute, with lovely dimples to die for. One look at him - with his tousled sandy-blonde hair, and a cheeky glint in his sky blue eyes, and I knew that he was _waaaaaay_ up on the social hierarchy. Maybe he wasn't exactly hot-stuff, but I could definitely see the appeal.

"You're one of those new kids, huh?"

"New kids." I echoed it with distaste. "I totally don't like the sound of that."

"Are you a cheerleader?" He asked. My brows knitted into a frown at his absurd and random question. The amusement in his eyes only intensified at that.

I snorted. "Is that your way of insulting people?"

"Is that your way of saying yes?"

"Pfft. Nice one. Me, who can't even do a forty five degree split, is a cheerleader. _ Totally._"

Again, there was that laugh of his. "Oh, I dunno." He shrugged innocently. "Usually, anyone who's hot, has a nice ass, a sexy pair of legs, and says totally twice in one conversation is a cheerleader to me."

I felt a grin stretch across my face. I totally liked this guy. Back in my school, guys as crude as him ruled the school. They were my kind of guys. "Good one," I mused. "But how many times have you _used_ that pick up line?"

"You found me out!" He exclaimed dramatically.

My grin widened. This boy was insufferable.

Soon though, his exclamation turned into a scoff. "Please, girl," he rolled his eyes. "I'm not _that _despo." I watched as he raked his fingers through his messily trimmed hair. "I'm a girl magnet. I've got every girl on the planet dying to be with me man."

"Except me." I said flirtatiously.

"I don't attract lesbos for some reason."

It was my turn to produce a scoffing sound. "You call me a les? What charm. _Totally _attractive."

"See? Your sentence structures can't seem to hold without the word 'Totally'. That practically screams cheerleader."

Sure, I was a rule following pansy when it came down to following the bitchy book for bitches word for word (or at least that's what some douche back at my old school had said), but I sure as hell wasn't a fan of the stereotyping system. Typical bitches adhered to the system of stereotyping, but for me, I was largely against it. Being popular didn't mean you had to be a cheerleader, nor did it mean you _had _to be surrounded by cheerleaders. I was popular, and I didn't even like cheerleaders. They talked too much about their boob sizes. Sure, I joined them sometimes, but hearing the same thing 24-7 did take a toll on you.

"And you're a jock," I retaliated. "Hot piece of ass, and a peanut for a brain. Totally screams Jock."

"A peanut for a brain?" The guy complained. I snickered to myself. Right, that was kinda stretching it, but he didn't have to know.

"But you go, girl," he said. "I'm a Jock." Then he waggled his eyebrows at me. "Am I an eligible suitor now?"

"I _don't_ do Jocks." That was totally true. I actually had a code of honour.

"Then what do you do?"

"Anything that has one brain cell or more."

"Ha-ha." He grinned again. "Fine, if you don't want to procreate with moi-"

"Mr Hammelton and Ms Swan!" A marker flew in our direction. I ducked just in time as the purple tip of the marker zipped past my ear, before breathing a sigh of relief. The Jock, Mr Hammelton, wasn't so lucky though. The cap of the marker that was flung towards us right after the marker itself, managed to get a good swing at his cute-sy dimpled left cheek.

"You two were talking!" The AP Chemistry teacher shrieked. Fuck her. That woman was insane. I was going to report her to the president for child abuse.

"Yeah." I gaped at Mr Hammelton in disbelief. Did he honestly want another marker embedded in his face? "Talking about Hydrochloric Acid. And Hydroxides. The wonders of science never fail to amaze us."

W.O.W. He was totally a great crap churner. Albeit a bit (or alot) overdramatic, but nonetheless, good.

The teacher glared at him through the tiny slits which I believed were his eyes. "I don't care. I don't want to see any more movements of the lips FROM NOW ONWARDS!"

At the top right hand corner of the lap, an unsuspecting girl yawned. In a split second, a marker was sent flying towards her face at an amazing velocity of thirty km per hour.

* * *

"You again!"

"I'm taking you for lunch."

"Ha. I rather get lost than be babysitted by some-"

"I'll take her," Mr Hammelton, who I learned was Mark, stepped in. He glanced from mud-haired bitch to me, grasping the gravity of the situation. His previously merry face had completely transformed into one of severity and distaste. He pulled me away from her roughly, before returning his undivided (, and disgusted) attention unto her. "Fuck off, Dex."

"Oh," Dex's upper lip curled into a sneer. "I see someone has closed in fast. Mr Popular's all wrapped round her little pinkie now, huh?" Mr Popular? Nice. My instincts hadn't left me - I had closed in on the right one.

"He said fuck off." I snarled bitchily. "Just fucking fuck off!" I flipped her the finger. Ah, that felt good.

"Ja." Mark whispered dangerously. "I said: _Go_."

There was so much authority in his voice, that that immediately double confirmed my suspicions about his popularity and 'ruling the school and shit'. Dex slowly retreated. She seemed to know too that the odds weren't exactly in her favour. Firstly, it was a two against one, and one of them against her happened to be a well muscled Jock.

"Snapping your fingers and expecting me to disappear?" Dex demanded furiously. "Not going to happened." And as though to un-prove her statement, she disappeared down the corridor in a huff, and completely out of sight.

"That was a totally cool trick." I told him appreciatively.

"Cool?" He laughed, his cheery mood uncannily returning. "You should see how Eddie does it."

"Does what?"

"Make people shit their pants."

I liked the sound of this Eddie person. Seemed like the male version of me. "So... This, uh, Eddie," I threaded carefully. "He attends this school?"

A short bark of laughter filled the air. "Yea, yea. Don't need to get so excited. You'll be seeing him soon." Mark quickened his pace, and I tagged along right after him. Random dudes and girls kept waving at him, and throwing out comments as he passed, like he were some celebrity on a red carpet. I just stood quietly beside him, getting used to all this sudden fame. One day, I swore, _that - Mark's fame, _would be my own. There would be no need for leeching once I came into power. "He's sitting at the same table as me. So..."

"Yea. I'll totally eat with you."

"Woah, you sure are one excited chick." Mark grinned again. "But for good reason too." We were approaching the cafeteria now. I could tell by the fragrant aroma of food. "Eddie is hotstuff." He continued. "But he's a little... Best you don't get too close to him."

"You make him sound like a lion that hasn't eaten for two months."

"Maybe." Mark smiled. His strides grew longer with his excitement. "But that lion you're referring to is my best friend after all, so..."

"-so here we are. Welcome to the cafeteria, Bella. It's literally heaven here."


End file.
